Alibi
by muffinanarchy
Summary: Tumblr prompt: A fic based on the song "Alibi" by 30 Seconds To Mars.


This was a prompt I received on my Tumblr account. Enjoy.

* * *

They were engulfed in flames. Every possible exit – every single way that could have granted them life – was blocked. They had backed into a corner, pressing against it as best they could. He had one arm around her waist and she had one slung under his arms, both of them trying to hold the other up. They knew this was it, this was the last stretch. They hadn't been so lucky this time with their mission. Everything had gone wrong and it had only taken a few moments for the flames to begin to chase them, desperate to eat them alive.

"This is how it ends, huh?" Clint chuckled as best he could, blood filling his mouth and starting to trickle down from the corners. Natasha looked up at him as best she could, her eye swelling and closing slowly from the bruise she had received.

"I guess." Natasha didn't have the heart to lie to him. They were both dying, she knew that. The bullets that had embedded themselves in between her ribs had confirmed it for her. He had bullets lodged in his body as well, and a broken wrist that had caused him to drop his bow. He slumped back against the wall, blood seeping from the bullet wound in his right shoulder and staining the wall a dark red. Natasha leaned back with him, watching the flames.

"Would've preferred to go out by a thigh choke," Clint muttered, coughing. Natasha offered him a soft smile, deciding to let her emotions take control in her final moments.  
"Not happening." She said quietly, leaning her head onto his shoulder.

The flames were drawing close, the smoke fill their lungs and make it difficult to breathe. If there was any way that she wanted to die, this was it. She had always wanted to die fighting – the rush of adrenaline, the feeling of living every minute like it was her last – that was her favourite feeling. The intensity of it all made her feel alive. It didn't matter how many injuries she received on the missions, she could deal with them all as if they didn't hurt. Clint did the same. He worked the same way as she did – they were counterparts of each other. He enjoyed the rush as much as she did. It was one of the reasons they worked so well together.

"Glad you're here." Clint's voice had grown quiet, as the flames licked their feet. He was leaning his head on hers, his face pressed into her hair. She sighed, nodding against him.  
"Me too," Natasha murmured. She felt herself slipping in and out of consciousness as the smoke choked the oxygen from her. Clint's body was rattling with coughs, some of the blood from his mouth slipping into her hair and being soaked up.  
"Tired," Clint was barely above a whisper. "Tasha..."  
"Sleep," she said, moving her arm from around him as the two of them slid to the floor. "I'm coming too."

She took his hand carefully in hers, lacing their fingers together. His breathing had almost stopped, his body becoming stiff beside her. The flames started to dance up their legs, but the pain from them wasn't hurting her. Instead she welcomed it like an old friend, shutting her eyes as she leaned against him. She wasn't angry, or even scared. She was thankful. Thankful that Clint was here beside her, sharing this last moment with her.

* * *

Natasha jolted awake, gripping the sheets in her hands. A thin layer of sweat covered her body as she tried to get her breathing to level out, shaking her head to relieve herself of the nightmare. Her legs were aching as she shifted in the bed, the burnt skin feeling as though it was being burnt all over again as she tried not to move too much. The skin felt as though she was opening new wounds and she tried to refrain herself from scratching it.

They had both been pulled from the fire, but not before the flames had licked almost all of their bodies, leaving them with searing skin. Natasha hardly remembered anything in the hours that had followed and tried every day to forget the one thing that had been committed to memory, teasing her every day as a sickening reminder. She remembered being told that she was the only one who had made it through. Clint had died in the fire and she hadn't gone with him like she had said she would.

Everything after that had been forgotten. She buried all of the time she had spent without him, broken because she had been the one to live. She had fallen apart more than she had let on, but had put on a brave face every single day since they had buried him. She picked herself up, willing herself to continue to be the Natasha that Clint knew. It had been difficult, but she was on her way.


End file.
